


lights down low

by sparkleeye



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Crying, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Steve Harrington, Verse!Boys, mentions of switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleeye/pseuds/sparkleeye
Summary: billy slips into steve’s bedroom between ten and eleven most of the nights he manages to sneak out. it’s just after neil’s gone to sleep or at least when he’s tired of ragging on him about something that isn’t even his fault. when neil’s really in a mood, other than the slew of verbal beratement, sometimes he’ll receive a firm knock to the back of the head, a shove into the wall or a calloused hand tightly gripping his neck, too. all things he gets for agood night, sweet dreamsmost nights, up until he’s at the harringtons' place.or: billy goes to steve's place after a rough or even relatively good night. after being grounded and forced to stay away, an opportunity presents itself.





	lights down low

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my first (real) harringrove fic! there are so many wonderfully creative people in this fanbase that i felt a mighty need to contribute something to simply to say thanks!
> 
> there's also mention of the boys being verse throughout the fic - that's just what i prefer/headcanon - but the actual sex that occurs features bottom!billy/top!steve. also underage, just because billy is still seventeen here!
> 
> (i'm also much more an artist than i am a writer but i had such a mighty need to write porn with feelings! any mistakes are mine - i always edit before i post but always find things to fix later on.)

billy slips into steve’s bedroom between ten and eleven most of the nights he manages to sneak out. it’s just after neil’s gone to sleep or at least when he’s tired of ragging on him about something that isn’t even his fault. when neil’s really in a mood, other than the slew of verbal beratement, sometimes he’ll receive a firm knock to the back of the head, a shove into the wall or a calloused hand tightly gripping his neck, too. all things he gets for a _good night, sweet dreams_ most nights, up until he’s at the harringtons' place.

tonight he’s got a big a bruise on his lower back from where he got pushed into the kitchen counter for breaking one of susan’s painted mugs. it’d fallen out and shattered to the floor that evening when he went to fix max some hot chocolate. honestly, it wasn’t even _his_ fault that it’d been placed on the very edge of the shelf inside the cabinet -- he hadn’t put the dishes away last or even opened said cabinet since the previous morning. technically it was his father’s fault, but god forbid he say that and live.

there’s also a bruise the shape of neil’s hand on wrist, where he’d gotten his arm twisted around simply for letting a _but max_ slip out that morning. his father had been in too much of a sour mood lately to let only words express his disdain for his son.

the past three nights he hasn’t been able to sneak out. he’d tripped out of his window with a crash a few nights ago and neil, who’d surprisingly been awake late that night, heard him and pulled him back inside by the back of his collar, got close in his face and cornered him against his bookcase. he’d muttered out a string of quiet, violent threats as to not wake up susan or max. he’d seen steve in the halls the next day and avoided eye contact at all costs until they were pretty much alone in the parking lot.

max hopped into the passenger side and he leaned over the roof of the car to catch steve’s eye. the other boy looked hopeful, eyebrows raised as he hesitated in front of the driver’s side door. “can’t hang out for a bit,” he’d said, trying to be as nonchalant and unsuspecting as possible, “got some stuff to do.”

his step sister only suspected budding friendship, that what he meant was no drinking or smoking together for a few nights, so she was allowed to hear. steve had nodded because he understood, even as he still watched and waited like he expected billy to say something more. he didn’t and steve clamored into his car, not looking back as he sped out of the parking lot.

now it’s different -- a few nights later and billy can almost taste the freedom. his father has something to do for work out in indianapolis for two nights, which is a rare occurrence as neil’s job doesn’t require much travel at all. it’s his pure dumb luck since susan’s going with him too, to do some sight-seeing. neil isn’t leaving until the morning, though, so he can only pop in for a handful of hours.

on the drive over, electricity buzzes under his skin in anticipation. his throat feels tight and his back throbs the whole drive over, plus he’s nearly chewed his bottom lip bloody between cigarettes. he knows the instant he’s inside that steve’s going to be on him - he’ll get one look and there’s no chance of distraction until steve’s done his own gentle version of tending to his wounds.

once he parks down the street from steve’s place he takes a minute to try and compose himself. he thinks to two fridays back when both of them were in an absolutely desperate mood. they’d been dancing around each other all day, shoving and grunting during a gym scrimmage and sending each other heated looks in passing in the hallway.

billy had walked up to the front door that night, hadn't climbed up to the window because he knew steve’s parents weren't there. he couldn’t be bothered to climb, not that night, and tapped once, twice, and steve came to the door still dressed in his school clothes. billy had barely been able to set down his keys in that little porcelain dish perched near the front door before steve was tugging him into the living room by his shirt collar, biting his bottom lip and breathing into his mouth.

he’d fucked steve twice that night. the first round both of them still had most of their clothing on and steve sat on his lap on the sofa, sweat beading at his hairline and his cock leaking against his tummy, billy hitting his sweet spot in a constant assault. the second round took place on the kitchen counter, a few minutes later after steve had gone to get a glass of water. the blond had dug his fingernails into the meat of steve’s pale hips while he bit his neck and fucked him roughly from behind. steve had keened and moaned, gripped the cool marble desperately as he let billy pin him down, let him jerk him off quickly and dribble all over his fist and the edge of the counter. steve could barely hold himself up after that.

even with steve’s parents gone tonight, he shimmies up to the window like he usually does. tonight, the mood is much too different to come to the front door acting all charming and suave. it’s not like that night two weeks ago, desperate and hungry. now, no matter how badly he wants to fuck steve or have steve fuck him - he’s not picky, honestly - he aches deep down in the cavern of his chest. it’d been one of those days where he was _exhausted_ and defeated feeling, only made worse by the new bruises and threat he received about leaving max alone while neil and susan were out of town.

at least early may in hawkins isn’t as damn cold as he thought it’d be. late at night and early in the morning is the only time the air goes frigid.

if anything, if he can’t sweet-talk harrington into getting naked, maybe he can at least get some fucking sleep. neither of them sleep much, let alone well, while alone in their respective beds. billy _could_ sleep like a rock but had been jolted awake far too many times by his father for sleeping in that he would shoot up the second he heard footsteps close to his bedroom door. and steve had these _awful_ fucking night terrors some nights, all revolving around monsters in the woods and people he loved getting murdered. they left with him with a hoarse voice and purple thumbprints under his eyes each morning after.

billy had been privy to a few of those on the rare occasion he could spend the night, had been nearly shoved out of harrington’s bed at three am and had to calm the guy down before he hyperventilated and passed out.

billy raps his knuckles against the glass. he can see steve watching tv in bed, dressed in a hawkins high sweatshirt and some tiny, much-too-tight running shorts. he nearly jumps at the sound and billy chuckles, smiling as steve opens the window, scowling a bit at him with a hand over his chest.

“i thought i wasn’t going to see you for a few more nights,” is all he says as billy crawls through the frame. the room is dim with only the tv and bedside lamp on, and billy winces as the frame catches against the bruise on his lower back and he prays steve didn’t hear that.

praying doesn’t do enough, as the two immediately lock eyes. suddenly harrington is all up in his space and billy says nothing, doesn’t have to -- at this point, steve just _knows._

“let me see,” is all he says, lets his hands fall onto billy’s hips.

billy attempts to argue, looks at the floor and lets his voice drop, scoffs. “it’s not _that bad_ , harrington.”

but harrington holds firm, repeats, “let me see,” stiffly.

steve slides his fingers atop broad shoulders and slips billy out of his jacket, lets him shrug his t-shirt off before hesitantly turning him around. he sucks a breath in as he sees the the dark line starting to purple the tan skin of billy’s lower back. gently he traces a finger over it and billy hisses, clenches a fist.

“it’s just a bruise, i’ve had worse.”

“i know _,_ i’ve seen the ‘worse’ _._ jesus christ billy, what happened?”

billy just shakes his head and rests his forehead against his hand gripping the window pane. he just wanted to come here and _forget,_ maybe have a good tumble in the sheets and nap for a few hours with steve’s back pressed to his chest to steady his breathing. but he can already imagine the watery look in steve’s big doe eyes as he stares at his back, his brows pinched up and hiding in his bangs and his soft, pink mouth pressed into a frown. the soothing hand is still on his spine, barely ghosting over the bruise.

“look at me, will you?” steve presses and moves his hands away, “fucking _look at me._ ”

he turns with a grunt, licks at his bottom lip where he’d chewed it raw. steve is just looking at him, all big brown eyes and soft dark hair, hands back at his hips, holding him steady.

“what happened,” steve repeats, softer this time.

immediately, billy can feel himself crumble. he presses his forehead to steve’s shoulder and lets out a shuddering sigh. it reverberates through his whole body and steve gently pulls him into a very harrington-type hug, the one billy always gets on nights like these. steve gets his arms looped around his back and pulls him in close, stroking down his spine or holding the back of his neck like he’s trying to keep billy’s broken pieces held together.

billy hates feeling weak, hates _being_ weak, but he still lets steve’s gentle fingers work some of the tension out of his body. fingers ghost over the bruise and he’s briefly reminded of what makes him feel so weak in the first place.

honestly, as pissed off as he gets him, neil fucking _terrifies_ him; he’s constantly afraid going to end up in the hospital again like he did back in california. even when his father’s hands aren’t on him, when he just shoots billy an absolutely blood-curdling look from across the dinner table for not saying ‘ _thank you, susan’_ when she wordlessly hands him a napkin, he’s scared. and his threats, whispered when they pass each other in the hallway or happen across each other alone in the living room, are always loaded, made with intention.

he’s _still_ so goddamn angry all the time because of it, but steve helps. steve always helps.

“‘m sorry,” he whispers and grips the soft cotton of steve’s sweatshirt like it’s a fucking lifeline, the only thing tethering him down. he can feel the tears falling down his face and drenching steve’s shirt but can’t get himself to stop.

steve just sighs and presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “don’t you be sorry. this is not your fault.”

 _not your fault_ is what steve always tells him. he says it like a song right next to his ear and holds billy close until he believes it deep down in his bones. tonight, though, he’s having some trouble. he sniffles a little and buries himself deeper into steve’s shoulder.

“my old man fucking _hates me,_ steve, he can’t stand even thinking he has a fag for a son and he makes sure i never forget it. he would’ve kicked me out ages ago but i think he gets off on knocking me around and-”

“let him kick you out. fuck him, if he kicks you out you can stay here with me.”

steve’s tone is biting and poisonous, much deeper than usual and billy has to laugh at that. it’s not cruel or mocking though - it sounds exhausted and disbelieving, even to his own ears. when he speaks, his voice feels too flat and monotonous despite trying to lighten the mood. his eyes are still wet on top of everything else.

“i don’t think mommy and daddy are going to like the idea that hawkins’ favorite fuck up is burying his dick in their precious baby boy _and_ eating dinner at their fancy parisian dining table.”

steve chokes on his spit and moves back. “god, did you have to say it that way? i mean, they’re not even home enough to really be allowed to care if you’re living here, but _still_.”

billy just grumbles in response, knows the evidence of tears on his face is as bright as day. steve has seen him cry - an embarrassing amount of times, in his opinion - on a few different occasions. the first time he’d been so shocked he just pulled billy close and stuttered out _please_ ’s to try and make him calm down. now, steve does this - grips him tight and just lets him cave, the tears dripping down his face and into steve’s shoulder, and when he’s done he gets the tears thumbed away like they were never there to begin with.

and despite how grateful billy is that steve lets him be vulnerable and crumble and knows better than to mention it afterwards, just lets it remain in the moment, doing it around anyone, even _alone,_ now that he’s almost eighteen years old and supposed to be a man, he feels like a pussy with no grip on himself.

“hey,” steve says softly, jolting him from his thoughts, “come to bed?”

and he nods, lets himself separate from _his_ boy to scrub his face with the back of his hand, kick his boots and socks off, undo his belt and tug his jeans down. he’s wearing briefs for once - usually doesn’t when he’s over at steve’s place or knows they’re going to meet up somewhere and get up to god knows what. it’s just an obstacle, normally.

he crawls onto the expensive queen size mattress and settles in, rests his head on steve’s chest and lets his heartbeat drum away in his ear. the tv is still on but he’s not watching, not even listening really, and knows steve is only half paying attention. he pulls an extra blanket over them and goes about stroking the longer curls away from billy’s shoulders, breathing into the top of his head.

not too long ago, billy would have crawled up to the window and immediately been on steve, pushing him back onto the bed to rip his clothes off, bite and suck red marks into his pale skin.

they’d fuck, billy always on top at the beginning. steve would go pliant and let billy crawl on top of him, pin him down. steve was absolutely _breathtaking_ taking a dick, so responsive and reactive and billy wanted to tattoo the image of the older boy losing it on the back of his eyelids. but, after a few too many hungry, fleeting glances at the fucking _monster_ between harrington’s legs, he’d attempted to be be nonchalant and casual about offering to let steve fuck him, just this _one time_.

after that it was all about who could pin the other down first, then they’d fuck once or twice, wait until their breathing settled before going to wipe themselves off. sometimes they’d talk for a bit, have a beer or share a few cigarettes but most of the time steve would mumble out a _see you next time_ while billy went crawling out the window the second his clothes were back on.

then there were a few too many close encounters at school, nearly caught making out in the back of cars or in the empty locker room, followed by weeknights reserved for hookups ending up with the two of them asleep on each other on the living room sofa. they’d talked for hours, often arguing over the stupidest shit but sometimes joking, chipping away at each other’s backstories. after a few stupid fights brought about by too much emotional constipation and denial, they’d finally broke, gripping onto each other and promising they’d find a way to make _this,_ whatever  _this_ was, work.

from that point on, they’d stumbled, _crashed_ into each other, let their mutual feelings drag them down into dangerous waters and make it unbearable to be away from one another for too long, drowning in it. it definitely wasn’t perfect between the two of them, with billy’s defensive, shut-off attitude and steve’s worrying and nitpicking - but they were making it work.

and maybe ‘boyfriends’ wasn’t the word billy would use, not out loud and not in hawkins at least, but that’s essentially what they were.

for a moment billy thinks he’d be completely content with falling asleep on steve’s chest for a few hours, dressed down to his briefs and covered in an old throw blanket, but his hand’s been inching up the other boy’s bare thigh for a few minutes now and stroking the soft, sensitive skin close to his groin. he’s at half mast soon, nudging towards billy’s hand and fidgeting a bit.

“we don’t have to tonight,” steve mumbles, but that doesn’t stop his hips from stuttering the slightest as warm, rough fingers come much too close but still fall just short of where he wants them to be.

and even now, sated, sleepy and comfortable, eyes still a little wet, billy really wants to have his hands all over steve. just watching steve’s reaction to his hand tracing up his leg has him rubbing down on the duvet a little bit and feeling slightly more awake.

“i want to,” he says into steve’s sweatshirt, “fuck, i _always_ want to.”

getting on his elbows, he tugs steve’s impossibly tight shorts down until his erection springs free and bobs against his hip. he smiles a bit and catches steve’s blush from the corner of his eye. steve was the good boy; usually billy was usually the one going commando.

steve lets out a ragged breath and lets billy tug his shorts down a bit more. “me too, always want you, always want my hands on you, always want you touching m- _fuck.”_

billy gives him a few quick, dry jerks before digging his tongue into the slit, letting the pre-come bubble out. steve always gets wet fast, can’t help it and used to be embarrassed but knows billy has never had any complaints about it. the blond gives a few licks around the head before he sinks down, letting out a deep sigh once he’s got nearly the whole thing down his throat.

with hands knotting themselves in his hair, billy properly gets to work. one hand pins steve’s shaking hips down while the other holds him steady, jerks him off with a tight fist. after swallowing steve’s cock down his throat a second time, he comes up for a proper gulp of air, watches those hooded brown eyes as he lets spit and pre smear across his lips.

steve whimpers and throws his head back against the pillows, digs his heels into the blankets as his dick hits the back of billy’s throat again. billy’s nails in his hip are doing nothing to stop him from thrusting up into the hot, wet heat that is the blond’s mouth.

billy loves to gives head, too, although none of his previous partners were as expressive or melted into the pleasure like steve. billy always spaces when he’s between steve’s thighs, allows himself to forget for awhile and focus only on the brunet boy above him, under him, whichever way. he lets steve grip his hair and push at his shoulders, fuck his big dick down his throat without warning. steve had been _so_ polite the first time billy sucked his dick. he kept biting his lip to keep quiet and gripping the nearest surface to keep his hands off.

billy, wanting to see how his mouth was pulling harrington apart at the seams, pulled off and gave the older boy a pointed glare. “just fuck my mouth already, harrington,” he’d said raggedly, his hand still wrapped around the base of steve’s cock.

the hand in his hair suddenly tightens. “gonna come if you keep doing that,” steve whispers. he doesn’t let go though, just sighs contently as a sneaky thumb rubs dryly over his hole, “ _fuck_ billy, you’re amazing with your mouth.”

billy preens at that, gives a few shallow sucks then pulls off slowly, lets his tongue trace the underside as he comes up. he gives himself a little squeeze before sitting up on elbow and flashing steve a toothy grin. steve just rolls his eyes, presses his thumb into those red puffy lips.

“stay the night,” he pleads softly, “i don’t want you going back there to get more bruises.”

billy’s ready to argue, wants to ask _aren’t your parents coming back tomorrow afternoon?_ but at the same time, the harringtons like him, or so he thinks. he’d always turned the charm on during the two or three occasions they’d been home while he was there. he shook mr. harrington’s hand firmly and kissed steve’s mother’s manicured, ring-clad hand like he was a goddamn nineteenth century gentleman. still, it would be smart to remind steve.

“your parents are coming back tomorrow for the weekend, aren’t they? so you can have your monthly ‘family dinner’ or some shit?”

steve wrinkles his nose at the reminder, looking like there’s a bad taste in his mouth. “ _fuck_ , you’re right. but then there’s, also, y’know, at your place. i can set an alarm so you can get home before your dad gets up?”

billy just leans down and kisses the exposed part of his stomach. “ _fine_. but he’s leaving tomorrow morning for a work thing in indianapolis, taking susan with him so she can go ‘sightseeing’ or what-the-fuck-ever. probably why he wanted to ‘talk some sense’ into me tonight. won’t have the chance for a few days.”

steve frowns momentarily, but then his eyes light up. “go home, pack some clothes, come over? i doubt my parents will care, my mom thinks you’re charming _,_ ” and billy smirks at that, “shit, but then what about _max_?” steve sits up properly and shucks the shorts completely so he’s just sitting there half-naked in an old sweatshirt, dick still hard and wet at the tip.

billy grimaces. he hadn’t even thought about what he was going to do about max. admittedly she’s a smart kid, knows she’d probably be fine on her own and would also welcome the freedom, but if neil even _thinks_ that max was home by herself for more than five minutes, billy would get his car keys taken away for a week and a nice purple bruise that would last just as long.  

steve puts a hand on his cheek then, forces him to look into those sweet, honey brown eyes. his chest swells as steve’s thumb traces the outline of his jaw before he’s leaning in to rest their foreheads together.

“stay the night, go home for a little bit in the morning, figure out what to do with max after your dad and susan leave. i’m sure hop and jane would be happy to have her over.”

billy’s still apprehensive when it comes to chief hopper but likes him nonetheless. hopper’s always nice to him - in that somewhat gruff, standoffish yet caring way he thinks a good father should be - but knows how protective he is of steve and the kids, will take their side over his any day. he’s working on that though, and he also knows that hop’s got a good idea as to what goes on between him and his dad, but doesn’t say anything, just offers knowing looks and mouths _you know where to find me_ after he spots a fading bruise.

despite that, billy’s very aware that the fight in november is still hanging over his head when it comes to chief hopper, but figures now it’s definitely not as bad as whatever had brought them out to jonathan byers’ house to start with.

and he likes jane. she’s a cute kid, a little hard around the edges and always has this knowing look on her face. something about her reminds him of himself; it’s probably the way she scowls when she’s frustrated or rolls her eyes when hopper makes some lame joke. she’s smart too, even though she’s still learning basic math and how to properly read. he always brings her library books when he goes over to pick max up from the cabin. she’ll smile and thumb the covers, then skip off and proudly show them to hopper like she’s trying to officially win him over for billy’s sake.

but sometimes jane will stare right through him with her head quirked to the side, then proceed to take his hand or rest her hand on his arm and smile a little sadly.

“my papa too,” she’d said one time when he twitched as she skimmed over a bruise. “not jim. _papa_.” he didn’t understand but he knew enough what she meant to ruffle her curly hair and nod his own form of apology.

“ _f_ _ine_ , you win this one harrington,” billy grumbles and crawls up over him, caging him in, “you better remember to set that damn alarm or you’re not fucking me.”

steve scrambles and leans over to his bedside table, fiddling with the stupid clock for a minute. he curses when a warm, rough palm reaches between his legs and gives him a few jerks. billy gives his bare asscheek a little nip for good measure, too.

“jackass,” steve mumbles. he’s smiling when he turns back around, though.

he moves a hand down between billy’s legs, cups him through his briefs, gets him down in the blankets with a gentle push to the shoulder. billy winces as he lands on the bruise, but steve kisses the look off his face immediately. he sighs into his mouth, lets steve nip his lower lip and trace over the seam with his tongue, then move down to his collarbone and actually _bite._ steve leans back for a moment, looking very satisfied with himself. the mark is wet and red, punctuated with tooth marks.

“feisty little thing, aren’t you?” billy grits out all low as he runs his fingers over the indentations, “ _damn_ harrington, you’re like a goddamn vampire.”

they like to mark each other, usually billy with his mouth biting kisses into flushed skin and steve with his hands bruising hips and leaving red scratches down backs.

steve just shrugs, smirks, and dives back in. he reaches down once more and slides his hand passed the waistband of billy’s briefs and gets a hand around him. billy instantly sighs and melts into the feeling a bit, already rutting into steve’s warm, rough palm.

“you gonna fuck me or what, harrington?” billy jilts.

steve sticks his tongue out in response. “patience is virtue.”

billy grunts as the palm slowly working up and down his cock goes a little faster, but the grip is loose and teasing and _not enough._ frustrated, he bites steve’s shoulder, pulling out a quiet gasp, but then his hand stills and billy nearly whines.

“stop fucking around and get to it.”

“you need to calm down, you’re all wound up now,” steve says lowly, right in his ear, “don’t fight me.”

billy, feeling a fire in his chest, nips at the side of his boy’s jaw. “funny, you were just cramming your monster dick down my throat and whining like a bitch in heat, but _i’m_ the one being impatient?”

“fuck off, you know you like it. besides, i like working you up, you get all needy and pretty.”

 _pretty_. steve’s compliments always get his stomach twisted in knots but _pretty_ isn’t exactly an adjective he’d use for himself. hot, sexy, yes. handsome maybe, but pretty?

“babe, you’re the pretty one,” he argues, tone light and teasing as he tugs at the bottom of steve’s sweatshirt. he lifts his hips up under steve’s hold and trails his briefs down his thighs. steve pulls them off at his ankles before tossing them to the carpet, lost in the sea of clothing already there.

“pretty,” steve repeats insistently into his skin, slowly scooting down the bed.

he settles between billy’s thighs and kisses down his chest, sucking a bruise into the muscled, taut skin stretched over one pectoral. he gives billy’s nipple a little bite for good measure, drawing out a hiss, before he lets his teeth trail down the dip of his abs. billy’s skin is warm and salty, smelling faintly of cigarettes and sweat and that musky cologne he always uses.

billy tucks one arm under his head so he can watch steve better. the light from the television, now muted, bathes steve’s freckled back in white and is suddenly far too bright. it feels out of place with the slow kissing and warm touches.

“turn the tv off, ‘s too distracting.” billy grumbles, toes at steve’s ribs even as he’s inches away from his dick. steve rolls off the bed with a sigh and goes to flick the set off, making the room significantly less bright and busy looking. it’s dark downstairs and the shadow of the hallway is creeping in through the door frame while the soft, warm glow from the lamp on the table chases the darkness away.

with the low lamp light catching the flecks of green and gold in steve’s eyes, billy watches as he skirts passed his cock and fully settles between his thighs. his hands grip at the sun-kissed skin and he sucks a bruise into the sensitive meat of billy’s inner thigh.

“c’mon harrington, get to it.” billy’s feeling impatient, wants to push steve’s head down so he’ll fucking _do something_. he jabs steve’s rib cage with one cold toe again, a subtle hint, and the taller boy hisses.

“lube, babe,” steve instructs, now scowling playfully, “‘s under the pillows.”

the dry pads of his fingers ghost down the strip of sensitive skin behind billy’s balls before stopping over his hole. steve gently rubs over the dry, puckered skin a few times.

“ _steve_ , please,” billy pleads. his arm is at a funny angle as he stays on his back and he digs under the pillows to find the lube. the smile on steve’s face is soft and sweet, but his pupils are are blown out and his arousal is present in the red splotches that bloom up his freckled torso to his cheeks.

billy finally finds the lube, half hidden in the inside of a pillowcase, and fights the urge to chuck the little plastic bottle at steve, who keeps dipping the very tip of his index finger passed the flushed pink of his hole and looking up sweetly like he’s never had a sinful thought in his life.

lube now in hand, steve quickly spreads the slick substance between three fingers before he turns his palm up and slowly slides his index finger home. billy lets out a low whistle at the feeling, doesn’t realize how much he missed having something inside. missed having _steve_ inside.

and yes, billy might fuck steve, but steve _makes love_ to him.

he thinks about it a lot, the way he often goes hard and fast, unrelenting and constantly biting, scratching, only going slower to rile steve up or if he’d specifically asked for some extra affection. steve on the other hand, works him up good and slow until his bones feels like jelly and he’s begging, then steve grinds deep down inside of him and puts stars behind his eyes while kissing his face and smoothing his hair away.

“so good,” steve praises, biting his hip as he curls his finger and dips in deeper, working his way up to that sweet spot, “so good and tight for me, baby.”

billy chokes on a breath when steve grazes his spot, icy-hot settling low in his belly. “fuck,” he hisses, can’t keep his eyes open. all he can do right now is _feel_ \-- feel steve’s breath hot against his hip and the gentle slide of his teeth as they graze bone, steve’s grounding weight between his legs while his long fingers work sweetly inside.

a second, then a third finger works its way in and billy lets a low gasp slip out. steve’s driving into his spot every couple of thrusts like he’s missing every other time on purpose. when he’s inside it’s a completely different story and a shiver runs up billy’s spine in anticipation. suddenly the mattress dips at his feet and _knows_ steve is humping into the sheets a little bit, his hands too busy to give himself a few quick jerks.

“hurry up, asshole.”

“oh, are you not having fun?”

“harrington, i wear to god i’ll fuck _myself_ at this point if you don’t get your ass in gear.”

he says it in a breathy tone, steve pushing _hard_ into his prostate halfway through the sentence, and all the heat dissipates. his voice is as low and gruff as it is whiny and when steve’s fingers slip out, another whine spills passed his lips.

steve suddenly sits up and back on his knees, perched in between billy’s strong tan thighs as he leans down to kiss him. billy opens his mouth immediately, runs his tongue over his mouth like he’s hungry for it and steve’s strong arms cage in around his head as he licks his way into billy’s mouth. billy almost succumbs, lets the thumb at his jaw angle his head up, but then he slips his hand down and around steve’s cock. between wet kisses he gives it a few jerks before he squeezes at the head. pre-come dribbles down his fist.

steve pulls away from the kiss all of a sudden and chokes on a moan -- billy grins.

“get me, get me a condom,” steve stutters, sitting back up, “fuck you, billy.”

“been trying to get you to do just that for the past ten minutes, moron,” billy grumbles, but he’s still blindly, hurriedly, digging around in steve’s bedside drawer for the stupid things.

if fear of what everyone called ‘the gay disease’ hadn’t ingrained itself in him back in california, he’d have already ditched the damn things to revel in the feeling of steve’s come dripping out his hole and down his thighs and getting to do the same thing to steve in return.

maybe he’ll bring the thought up soon; it’ll be an awkward conversation to have anyway.

billy hands steve the little foil square and throws himself back into the pillows, looks up at steve under his thick, long lashes and grins as he fumbles with the wrapper. he spreads his legs a little wider and settles on the idea that now is a brilliant time to be a tease, needs to rile steve up a bit more.

but at the same time, each bounce of the mattress punctuates the bruise on his back and each time he’s temporarily reminded of what occurred earlier that evening, why he crawled through steve’s window earlier that night in the first place.

“hey you,” steve suddenly rasps, the wrapper only half open, “you’re spacing. you okay?”

billy brushes steve’s thigh with his own and gives him a very pointed look. “‘m fine babe, would be better if you’d the hell hurry up.”

he resorts to teasing, still watching steve with stormy blue eyes as his hands fan out over his chest, ghosting over his nipples and down his abs, completely avoiding his dick - painfully hard now, thanks, and drooling on his sweaty lower stomach - and slipping under his balls to rub at his entrance. he briefly gets some of his own pre on a fingertip and trails it back down. steve actually chokes when he sees that and drops the condom wrapper on billy’s stomach.

billy covers a laugh with a little cough and sighs when he sinks the one finger in to the second knuckle. steve just watches him for a moment, still leaves the condom on his stomach and watches with big, blown-out eyes. they zone in on the finger slipped inside, thrusting shallowly and not doing much other than curbing the craving to have something filling him up.

suddenly steve’s mumbling something, flushed crimson from his freckled chest to the tips of his ears and he’s breathing a little rapidly as he yanks billy’s hand out, making him hiss, and snatches the condom up. he rolls it on quickly, hands still shaking and billy wants to laugh at steve’s growing desperation, but then there’s a hand pushing at his hip and motioning for him to turn over. nothing steve is mumbling is clear -- it’s all whispered low and incoherent under his breath.

billy flips over onto his stomach and rests his weight on his elbows and knees. even with his cock fucking _throbbing_ between his legs, he feels a bit embarrassed and exposed in this position. he just wants steve to fuck him already, push on that awful bruise and give it a different meaning.

he wiggles his rear a bit and shoots steve a heated look over his shoulder, starting to get irritated when steve just looks back at him instead of moving. he’s just up on his knees, bathed in the golden light of the lamp with sweat shimmering on his hairline and his usually pristinely styled hair up all over the place.

“fuck me,” billy grits out, grabs the base of his own cock and slides down so he’s fully presenting himself, cheek pressed to steve’s expensive duvet and feeling all too much like a bitch in heat, sweaty and flushed and nearly dripping on the sheets. steve stares at him for another beat, silent but with his chest heaving. it’s much too quiet between them and billy almost wonders if the moment’s passed, which would be infuriating and disappointing and fucking _sadistic_ of steve, but then there’s lube smeared over his hole, the wet sound of steve slicking himself up.

and _fuck_ he’s still staring with those big amber eyes, mouth parted a bit. his lips are a glistening magenta and his eyes flutter shut as he shifts forward and rubs his cockhead against billy’s hole.

“yes, _yes_ ,” billy growls, grinds back, “c’mon baby, fuck me good.”

and finally, fucking _finally_ , billy swears he can hear angels singing as steve slides home with a violent jerk of his hips. it punctuates a groan out of both of them and steve hangs over his back, one hand gripping a hip while the other splays out on the back of his neck, pushing him down. billy grips the mattress when steve hits, no, _slams_ into his prostate.

steve never fucks him this way -- likes whispering sweetly and kissing him too much. always looks in his eyes as he buries himself deep inside, like he’s trying to make a home inside billy’s body.

his chest is hot and sticky plastered against the blond’s back, navel level with the bruise his father had shoved there earlier as he starts thrusting in with even more fervor. it’s harder, faster, _deeper_ than usual - billy can feel it in his stomach. it makes everything feel molten and liquid inside of him.

the way steve’s pushing down on his back is possessive, leaning down just a bit to kiss the notches of his spine, whisper _mineminemine_ into muscled, sweat-slick skin.

and as good as it feels to be on his knees taking it, pressed down to the mattress with his cock bobbing heavily between his legs, billy yearns to watch steve’s face and how it contorts so sweetly when he clenches up and whispers something poisonous and filthy in the air between them.

right now, steve’s fucking him like he’s royally pissed off about something.

“harrington,” billy gasps out, “steve _, sweetheart -_ hold on, fuckin’... fuckin’ stop for a sec.”

as good as it feels, he’s suddenly worried about it, afraid something’s wrong. steve stutters to a halt, his jaw slack as he doesn’t pull out. his hips stay pressed to billy’s perfect ass and he leans over his back, smoothing his sweat-damp bangs out of his face as he presses his chin into billy’s shoulder blade.

“you okay? didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asks. his voice is strained and low but there’s also worry there. steve is absolutely lust-addled and the one hand that remains on billy’s hip is squeezing the skin and bone mercilessly.

“nah, s’not that, something’s up with you.”

steve presses an open-mouthed kiss into his shoulder. “what d’you mean? ‘m fine, just love being inside you, making you feel how i feel when you’re fucking me senseless.”

he chuckles a little while billy shivers and bites back a whimper, resting his forehead on a clenched fist. _i’m losing my fucking mind,_ he thinks, _shit, he’s still inside of me and right against that spot._

“not that,” he pants. “you’re being possessive, like really possessive. i think i’m gonna have a bruise on my hip tomorrow.”

steve shrugs against him, like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. but billy knows better, knows that the second he looks over his shoulder that steve will pretend to be focusing on a strip of wallpaper with his brows pinched up, mouth pressed into a semi-frown while he plays stupid. so he does, gives steve that _cut the bullshit_ look, the one he knows all too well.

“don’t play dumb, harrington.”

steve scoffs for a second, wiggles his hips in an attempt to be distracting. they’re both rock hard despite the intermission. the blond sighs again, now as the punishing hand on his hip travels down to slowly jerk him off, cup his balls and stroke a thumb on the underside of his cock. “ _steve,_ ” he pleads.

steve sighs and stills his hand - billy really wishes he didn’t - before he nuzzles his nose into billy’s shoulder.

“when you came over tonight, you looked so, i don’t know, _defeated._ and i knew you were still excited to come over, and i was too, i always am, especially since i thought it was going to be a few more nights before you were climbing up to my bedroom window again-”

“ _oh wherefore art thou_ , steve?” billy teases. steve burrows into his neck and his cheeks heat.

“hyuk it up, lover boy,” steve laughs, voice still low as he slowly slips out with a grunt. billy hisses and turns, clenches up and gives steve an irritated look as he sits and crosses his legs. he wants to listen, wants to _know_ where the sudden possession is coming from, and then he wants to get fucked just as hard as he was a minute ago.

“i come over _a lot_ looking like that, though, and you never go that hard right off the bat.”

 _heh, hard._ he catches the glint in steve’s eye at that but he just smiles that time and tucks one leg under himself, the other bent so he can rest his chin on his knee. a hand comes out and smoothes over billy’s jaw gently, thumbs over his lips.

“i dunno, it’s just, every time you come over like that, i get so pissed off i can’t do anything, that _you_ can’t do anything without making it worse, and when you’re here i have to put you back together every fucking time, and i’m so damn _tired_ of putting you back together just to send you back there and have it happen all over again.”

billy’s chest suddenly aches a thousand times more than the fresh bruises and his cock do.

steve always says that he’s _stupid_ , that he’s _dumb_ and only knows so much about so few things, but billy never thinks so. calls steve a dumbass a lot, pokes fun at him and helps him with his homework quite a bit, but steve isn’t stupid. maybe he’s not particularly book smart or studious, but he can read people so well, can read billy and those kids and nancy wheeler and even the byers’ kid so expertly he could write novels describing their mannerisms. he understands feelings and behavior strangely well.

the only thing steve had been wrong about was nancy loving him - and maybe she did at points, but not the whole time they were together. that’s why he really thinks he’s stupid and billy knows that it matters to him more than all the red marks on his homework and _see me_ ’s marked on his essays.

besides that though, steve always knew what to do as to not push and start a fight over something stupid, even in the beginning, because billy was always wound tight as a spring and couldn’t handle being touched, couldn’t handle the gentle whispering right away either because it made him feel condescended upon and pitied, _weak._

and even now steve is viewing him as transparent and is right. most of the times he sneaks out it’s to come over and feel some sort of (what he recognizes as) genuine love and affection, something he hasn’t had for most of his life and that steve, in a way, hasn’t either -- not genuinely or consistently at least. and steve gives him what he thinks is _love_ so easily, as much as it fucking guts and destroys him to get knocked around and berated over every breath he takes in his father’s house, it means he gets to come back here to have all that rage and fear washed away, if even for a few hours under the moonlight, naked and wrapped in expensive sheets.

“‘s not forever, harrington,” he says weakly. he doesn’t even believe himself, not with that tone, and knows long after he’s gone from this shithole that the years of beratement are going to set him on edge at the slightest of conflicts and make him distrustful, angry and bitter.

but at least this shithole brought him to steve harrington, albeit their initial complicated relationship and one-sided rivalry. when he’s with steve it’s easier and being better actually seems possible.

“yeah but you have another year in that _hellhole_ ,” steve whispers, voice cracking as he presses his forehead against billy’s, long brown hair tickling his nose. “or he’s going to kick you out when you’re eighteen, which is coming up soon.”

billy sighs and closes his eyes. he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. he just wanted to know what was wrong and now his chest aches and his throat is constricting as he tries to swallow down the threat of tears. he’d been fighting them all night, really, had only calmed when steve’s eyes found him as he crawled in the window.

“still, not forever. and i got you, don’t i, pretty boy?”

he feels a soft kiss on his cheekbone, then on the tip of nose, on the corner of his mouth and opens his eyes, stares directly into steve’s, all glassy and wet at his bottom lashline. he knows he probably looks the same and smiles, just the slightest bit. “don’t i?” he repeats, quieter.

steve nods, “you got me.” he says it thickly and it both sounds and _feels_ like a promise.

“then i’ll be fine. now -- get back to fucking me, alright? my dick honestly hurts and i know yours does, too.”

steve chuckles and wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, then looks down at their laps. despite the conversational break, they’re both still flushed and erect, desperate to come.

“let me see you,” he whispers, “i think _next time_ i’ll screw you facedown into my mattress.”

billy hums low in his throat at the thought and settles down on his back. the other angle is perfect because steve can absolutely wreck him when he’s got his ass in the air and his face pushed into the sheets - he unabashedly loves holding him down and doing it to steve, too - but this way they can kiss and whisper and grab onto each other like lifelines when they’re barreling towards completion.

steve grabs the discarded tube of lube teetering at the edge of the mattress and smooths some more slick on himself before he crawls up on his knees between billy’s legs. he rubs his cockhead against billy’s hole a few times, pulling out a litany of frustrated grumbles before he grips onto the meat of one strong thigh, pins the other leg, now folded, against billy’s torso and he gears up. billy watches him from under hooded eyes as he holds the base of his erection and pushes inside once more. he sighs contently when steve’s face contorts with pleasure, lets strong hands push one thigh down and open while the other acts as a stabilizer, gripping the sheets right next to billy’s head.

steve’s dick is so _big_ , both on the long side and mouth-wateringly thick and he fucking knows how to use it. with enough pushing and praising, he’ll fuck billy’s throat until there are tears in both of their eyes and when he’s on top like this he’s so exact and purposeful with his thrusts, whether he’s just slipped inside or is about to come and is going erratic with movement.

each jolt of his hips presses the blunt head of his dick against billy’s prostate and it sends an icy chill of arousal up billy’s spine and makes him he bite his lip, grip the pillows behind them. steve grasps the blankets and his hip even tighter and holds him in place while he fucks into him, like billy’s just a hole for him to come in -- not like either of them would be objected to that.

bathed in the low yellow light of the bedside lamp, even under his long lashes and eyes that refuse to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time, steve is absolutely beautiful. his skin is glistening with sweat, hair falling in his face, eyes pinched shut as he works his plush lower lip between blunt, white teeth. he grinds his hips forward until they’re flush to billy’s ass and then he pulls back a few inches, slamming back in again over and over. each thrust is punctuated with a grunt, primal and raw.

steve is exactly what billy thinks heaven looks and feels like, if heaven exists.

billy is starting to lose his damn mind and attempts to move forward to meet steve’s thrusts. his cock jumps against his belly with each jerk of steve’s hips, dripping clear beads in the dip of his abdominals. the room smells of the subtle mix of their respective colognes and natural scents, but is mainly heavy with the musky, heady scent of arousal. the only sound is the constant squeaking of the bed frame, the slapping of skin on skin and the two of them gulping in air like they’re suffocating.

“so pretty,” he gasps out, splays on hand across steve’s sweaty chest, “fuck, stevie, so fucking gorgeous.”

steve chokes and his hips stutter for a beat. he peers down at billy with that beautifully blissed out expression and bends down, frees both of his legs temporarily before silently urging him to throw them over his shoulder. billy complies, easy, and licks his lips. steve’s inches from his face now and he’s in impossibly deep. his pace is unrelenting and even with both of his hands grasping the sheets, caging billy’s head in between his toned arms, he’s fucking shaking, unstable and overcome with pleasure.

“you don’t give yourself enough credit, _hargrove,_ ” steve pants, “you look so good on my cock, just fucking taking it like you were made for me. _fuck_ , i think about this all the time, being inside of you _and_ having you inside of me, jerk off thinking about coming inside of you and watching my come leak out of your hole, down your legs.”

steve’s clearly becoming more and more unhinged in the sack, not the little vanilla boy billy had a few months back because what he just said, that’s the kind of filth billy usually spews in the heat of the moment. he fucking _keens._

“tell me more, talk to me,” billy demands, voice as needy as it is commanding. he’s bossy in bed, is as bossy when he’s taking something as he is when he’s burying his cock, fingers or tongue inside steve on the sofa, on the shag carpeting in the living room, in the backseat of the camaro with the door open when they’re parked at the quarry -- every which way. steve is a brat though, will complain in this breathy, needy tone and sometimes pout just to rile billy up. steve also tends to stutter when he tries to talk in the sack and it’s as endearing as it is kind of funny.

“ _fuck_ , think about pinning you to the walls in the showers while everyone’s in there, just slide my dick inside of you and have everyone know i’m yours and you’re _mine_ , not anyone else's. then sometimes, when i’m in class,” and steve chokes as billy clenches around him after one especially hard jab at his prostate, “want you to bend me over one of the desks and put your fingers in me, eat me out. you’ve got the best tongue, baby, get hard just thinking about it.”

“you get off thinking about me?” he asks, but is not at all surprised. right now he just needs to hear it, hear steve’s dirty fantasies and all the things he gets up to alone, to finish him off.

“think about you all the time,” steve gulps. “fuck myself on my fingers in the shower and wish they were yours, jerk myself off wishing i could come in your mouth instead of in my hand, _oh my god_ stop doing that or i’m gonna come in like, two seconds.”

billy laughs breathily, tosses his head back as the feeling in his gut goes icy hot and borders on overstimulation. he hasn’t even touched his cock yet and neither has steve.

“god i think i’m fucking in love you, _fuck_ i’m so gone for you, sweetheart, couldn’t imagine not having you, making me feel so safe-”

“ _steve-_ ”

“- shut _up_ i’m trying to tell you how much i love you, _god_!” steve chokes, eyes wet, and he’s fucking _laughing,_  “never want anything to happen to you, breaks my fucking heart every time i gotta see you the way you were earlier. i swear to god i’d kill him if i could, billy, i’d fucking kill him so he’d never hurt you or anyone else again.”

billy can immediately feel that overwhelming, tight swelling in his chest and throat at steve’s words, his hopes and praises and confessions. there are immediately tears in his eyes, welling up big and fat as he tries to focus on steve above him. his vision is going blurry and a few slip down as he hiccups on a sob. then one of steve’s hands is on him, thumbing away the tears and it’s followed by a series of kisses being pressed into the thick column of his throat, up the side of his jaw to his chin.

“fuck you, harrington,” he hiccups, desperately trying to wipe the fresh tears away while steve kisses him and holds his jaw in place, “makin’ me cry during sex like a little bitch.”

“love you too, asshole.”

billy slips his legs off steve’s shoulders to urge steve to sit up straight and properly pound into him, then immediately wraps them around his waist to pull him in deep and hold him there. he digs his heels into the meat of steve’s ass, egging him on as he’s wiping his face whilst feeling much too cloudy and overwhelmed, and pushes at his chest with fidgeting hands.

“c’mon baby, make me come, make me come on your big dick,” billy chokes out breathlessly.

steve whimpers and shifts up, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes as his thrusts go both deeper and faster. he keeps losing his balance and falling forward a little bit, using billy’s hips as leverage as he _shoves_ them towards completion. gripping onto the pillows and onto steve’s forearm, billy’s had enough and just wants to come. he feels a little hysterical, definitely overstimulated, doesn’t know how either of them have managed to last this long even with their brief intermission to talk about _feelings._

his cheeks are tacky with tears and itch a bit but the feeling goes away as steve gets a hand on him. steve jerks him off four, five times when the spring wound tight deep in the pit of his stomach uncoils and jets off. he can’t even get a warning out as he lets out an uncharacteristically high, cut-off moan and he’s shooting onto his torso, over steve’s loose fist and up his chest and nearly into the dip of his collarbone. his eyes are pinched shut, colors bursting behind his lids and his chest constricts with the power of it. he clenches up painfully tight, nearly leaves bruises on steve’s ass with his heels as he rips the orgasm out of the other boy.

steve’s hand stutters on his sensitized cock and he leans forward, getting a few more droplets of out of billy as he bites off a delicate gasp and screws his eyes shut, spurting into the rubber deep inside billy’s body. steve lets out a breath as his hips stutter to a halt and billy has to push his hand away weakly, can’t handle the touch and feels raw, cut open from the dual intimacy and ecstasy.

steve nearly falls backwards on the bed as he pulls out, lands on his ass and carefully removes the condom and lazily ties it off, tosses it in the direction of the bin without a second glance. billy has to stare as steve leans over him again and admires the mess on his stomach and chest and carefully gathers it up onto his fingers, slips the mess between billy’s lips.

he knows steve has totally stolen this move from him but isn’t complaining. he loves feeding steve’s come back to him when he shoots off messily across his hand or lower abdomen and loves that he gets to do it from this position, too.

steve does this until only some sticky traces are left behind, then he sweeps his tongue over his fingers and leans in for a sloppy, wet kiss. billy still tastes himself, slightly salty, and pushes the remainders of his release passed steve’s plush bubblegum lips. he drinks in the moan he receives and smiles against the older boy’s mouth, giving his chin a kitten lick once he pulls away.

they just lay there on their backs on top of the duvet for a bit, bathed in the warm light of the bedside lamp and their afterglow. billy feels as sated as he does raw, scrubbed clean -- and maybe a little tender down south. the biting tension usually settled in the center of his being has been soothed, for now at least, through steve’s affirmations and touch. he rolls over onto his side and watches steve for a beat, the slowing rise and fall of his chest, the smattering of freckles creating constellations on his skin, the lavender bruises under his eyes from recent lack of sleep.

“you just gonna sit there and stare at me all night or are you actually going to get some sleep?” steve asks, eyes closed. he reaches out blindly and taps billy’s cheek before opening his eyes, offering a small smile. billy just leans into his touch and rolls forward a bit more so their noses are nearly touching.

“mm, just thinking ‘bout how pretty you are.”

“sap,” steve teases. he leans down to gather up the throw blanket from the end of the bed and pulls it over them as they start to cool down again. “you do need to get some sleep, though, so you’ll actually be _awake_ when you come over tomorrow.”

billy yawns for good measure and cards his fingers through steve’s bangs. “yeah yeah, i will. dad and susan will probably be on the road just after eight, so i’ll need to be up to see them off. then i’ll call hopper and ask if max can stay over, max’ll call them from the chief’s house and make some bullshit up about a surprise sleepover and then i’ll come back here.”

“ok, but what if they call your place to check up on you?”

billy scoffs. “they’ve never called to check up on me. they’ll believe whatever shit story max tells them and that’ll be good enough.”

steve looks unsure but drops it, instead pulls billy closer under the blanket and tangles their legs together, presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “get some sleep then, don’t want you bitching about being tired _and_ having a sore ass tomorrow at the dinner table.”

“excuse me, that is _peak_ dinner conversation, harrington.” billy buries his face into the crook of steve’s neck and chuckles, lets his eyes close as he breathes in the warm scent of steve’s skin.

“ _shut up,_ smart ass.”

“love you too, sweetcheeks.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about harringrove (and other junk) on [tumblr](http://animemouth.tumblr.com)!


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